


Oh Boy

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Follow the North Star [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “You look, um,” Roman says. “Big.”“Thanks?” Connie says, going red and bashful, which is further confirmation that this is just a bigger Connie and not some very convincing Evan Connelly On Steroids (But Not Actually) impersonator. “I mean. If that was a compliment. Or whatever.” He laughs nervously.“Of course,” Roman says. “It’s. You look good. For hockey purposes, I mean.”“Oh boy,” Chalmers says under his breath, and Roman reaches out and whacks him on the back on the head before he says something he’ll want to take back if he has any sense of personal safety.





	

First day back is always a bit of a trip. Tons of guys crammed into a small space, some he knows as well as he knows anyone, some he's never met before in his life. There’s this atmosphere that's a mix of nerves and excitement and relief, everyone talking over one another and hugging guys they haven't seen in months and asking about each other's summers. It's a familiar feeling, even if the faces are always changing; since Roman’s first season seven years ago he’s had three different coaches, two GMs, probably more than a hundred different teammates. There’s only a handful of guys that were there during Roman’s first year, and most of them are leadership now — including, Roman guesses, himself, if in his unofficial rookie handler capacity. 

There are a few touchstones in the support staff too — Brad’s been nagging Roman on his workouts since Roman was a rookie, Peter handling his equipment for almost as long, Stacy running PR with a sweet smile and an iron fist. But mostly things keep evolving: every year there’s something to shake up the dynamic of the team, and Roman rolls with it.

In this case, the first dynamic shake-up is in the form of a shout all of ten minutes in. It’s so surprising that the first person to get really loud during training camp is Fitzy. So surprising. Roman, for one, is amazed. Couldn’t have predicted it.

“Who the fuck are you?” Fitzy yells, and Roman and every other guy in the room looks over to see Fitzy craning his head back to stare up at Connie. Except it kind of takes a minute to actually recognize him as Connie. Roman guesses that was Fitzy’s point: the gangly tall kid from last year is — well. He’s still tall. That is a tall dude.

That is not a gangly dude. That is a kid who ate his fucking Wheaties, because he has to have put on a good twenty pounds of pure muscle at an absolute minimum. It’s generally understood that rookie players aren’t going to be the weight they are at their prime. Usually takes leaving puberty, consistent training and nutrition, and a handful of years. Roman didn’t hit the weight he maintains until he was twenty-two.

Connie’s always been a bit of an over-achiever, but this is ridiculous. He didn’t just pack on the muscle, he went from looking like a kid someone had stretched to 6’5” to actually looking his age. Roman is actually amazed. He’s like a whole other person.

“I’m Evan,” Evan says. “Connelly? We…I was here last year too.”

Okay, some things stay the same.

“He’s not being serious, Connie,” Findlay says. “He’s just — crudely — pointing out you’ve grown out over the summer. Good work.”

“Thanks, Finds,” Evan says.

“I could climb you like a tree,” Fitzy says.

“Fitzy, really?” Finds asks. “Do I have to go over the definition of sexual harassment again?”

“I have a boyfriend, thanks,” Fitzy says, which Roman guesses is as good as any way to let the new guys know before someone says some stupid shit. “I’m not saying I _would_ , just that I could. If I tried to do that last year he would have crumpled like tissue paper.”

“I can lift a lot,” Connie says, sounding hurt.

“ _Yeah_ you can,” Fitzy says.

“Fitz _gerald_ ,” Findlay says.

“Was that sexual harassment?” Fitzy asks innocently, batting his lashes in Findlay’s direction.

Findlay sighs.

Connie makes his way over soon enough, greeting Roman with a shy little wave and a hesitant hand gesture that better not mean he thinks they’re shaking hands. “Come here,” Roman says, pulling him into a hug, which feels — firm.

Roman coughs, pulls back after slapping Connie’s back a few times.

“You look, um,” Roman says. “Big.”

“Thanks?” Connie says, going red and bashful, which is further confirmation that this is just a bigger Connie and not some very convincing Evan Connelly On Steroids (But Not Actually) impersonator. “I mean. If that was a compliment. Or whatever.” He laughs nervously.

“Of course,” Roman says. “It’s. You look good. For hockey purposes, I mean.”

“Oh boy,” Chalmers says under his breath, and Roman reaches out and whacks him on the back on the head before he says something he’ll want to take back if he has any interest in personal safety.

“Ow,” Spoilsport says, glaring at Roman and rubbing the back of his head. “No speech on physical harassment, Finds?”

“No injuries, otherwise I don’t give a shit,” Findlay says without turning away from what appears to be a lecture directed at an unrepentant looking Fitzy.

“Got something to say, Harry?” Roman says, staring him down.

“The fuck did you _eat_ this summer?” Harry asks, which Roman accepts as a display of good behavior.

“Just normal stuff,” Evan says. “I mean, my nutrition plan was tweaked, but—”

“Evan,” Roman interrupts before Harry can, because he’ll be ruder.

“Hm?” Evan says.

Roman tries to think of a way to phrase ‘that was a rhetorical question’ without embarrassing him. Can’t think of one, so instead he goes with subject change, “You step up training or something?”

“Oh!” Evan says. “Yes!”

Harry starts backing away while Connie gets into his training regimen, and Connie doesn’t notice, so Roman lets him go to be Spoilsport somewhere else. Roman has ace naming skills for his Rookies — former rookies? — considering a summer away hasn’t made Harry’s face any less sour, and Vic’s spidering away somewhere — Roman saw him for a sec but lost him before he could say hi, which is typical Kjeldsen. Val still looks like two ten year olds stacked on top of one another, but even if he didn’t, he’d still be Sweet Child O’ Mine.

Connie’s, well. Sweetheart was personality, not just the fact he looked like —

Roman really shouldn’t have named him that. Probably still fits, though.

Evan wraps up his explanation eventually, though it was such a complex and lengthy breakdown that frankly Roman is no longer surprised he put on a shitton of weight, but he _is_ wondering when the hell the kid had time for a life.

“Connie, give me a piggyback ride now that I won’t break your back,” Fitzy yells.

“Don’t do it,” Roman warns. “You do it once he’s going to think he can get one whenever he likes, and you’re going to end up with a literal monkey on your back.”

“Rude,” Fitzy says. “Come on, Rookie Detective.”

That’s the magic, manipulative word(s), because Connie immediately looks mortified, which Fitzy leverages for piggybacking purposes.

“King of the world,” Fitzy shouts.

Roman looks over, sees a wide-eyed rookie looking completely overwhelmed. As defacto rookie handler, this is probably something he should cover.

“Yes,” Roman says. “It’s always like this.”

Best not to lie to the kids.

*

Fitzy gets three piggyback rides during training camp by Roman’s count, not including an aborted attempt on the ice that Devon thankfully shut the fuck down before someone took a skate blade to the face.

“Now Connie both acts and looks older than you,” Roman says at the barbecue Devon hosts as a training camp wrap-up. “How does that feel?”

“How do _you_ feel?” Fitzy asks.

Roman says “About what?” before he considers the consequences.

“Connie coming in looking all buff and studly and—”

Roman puts his hand over Fitzy’s mouth.

Fitzy raises his eyebrows.

“No,” Roman says.

“But totally yes, right?” Fitzy asks when Roman removes his hand, then waggles his eyebrows.

“I’m walking away,” Roman says.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave,” Fitzy calls after him, and Roman snorts and hopes Findlay didn’t overhear for his own mental health. He finds Connie by the grill, eating a burger and chatting Dev’s ear off.

“Hey,” Roman says, knocks his hip against Evan’s, well. Thigh. He really is a giant.

“Hi,” Connie says, smiling wide at him.

“Looked good this week,” Roman says. “Really impressed.”

“Yeah?” Connie says, then colors. “Thanks, Roman. I worked really hard.”

“Oh boy,” Devon says, and Roman doesn’t knock him in the back of his head, but only because a) he’s in front of a grill and b) he’s Roman’s captain. It’s close, though. He settles with a middle finger and reparations in the form of a burger. He eats standing up beside Connie, which is unexpectedly awkward in a way it’s never been, even when Roman was trying to avoid the (gawky?) elephant in the room last season and pretend he didn’t notice Connie’s crush on him.

“Oh boy,” Roman says aloud.

“What?” Connie says.

“Nothing,” Roman says, and really hopes that’s true.  


*

Roman’s sweet child gets cut at the end of training camp, sent down to Iowa. It’s getting to everyone, and not just because he’s a sweet soul they’re going to miss in the locker room. There are a couple concrete consequences; Connie’s gone from splitting an apartment to living alone for the forseeable future, and the rooming assignments get shuffled into what Roman can tell isn’t going to be a winning combination, Connie plucked from Spider’s arms into the very unreceptive embrace of Spoilsport.

Spider looks genuinely concerned about it, which is a big deal for him. Roman can’t really blame him — Spoilsport rags on Connie like it’s a…sport…and that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon, judging by the way Harry’s publically threatened murder for Evan’s theoretical snoring. Off to a great start so far.

Victor gives him a pleading look. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roman promises.

It turns out Roman can’t do shit. He escalates that right on up front office, but they’re very insistent that unless Roman’s seeing genuine harassment, Evan’s got to be the one to come to them. Harry can be an ass, but not like that, and Roman’s sure as shit not going to put a black mark next to his name because Connie won’t like rooming with him, though he does feel bad that he’s leaving him to Harry’s questionable mercy.

What he does do is grab Connie’s elbow before their trip back from their first exhibition game. “Talk to you for a sec, Sweetheart?” Roman asks.

Evan swallows, and Roman flicks his eyes away from the bob of his throat.

“Sure,” Evan says. “What’s up, Roman?”

“How’s the living sitch?” Roman asks.

“Good,” Evan says. “Kind of sucks that I’m stuck by myself, but—”

“I meant with you and Spoilsport,” Roman says. “Though I’m glad living alone’s working out.”

“Oh,” Evan says. “It’s good.”

“It’s good,” Roman repeats.

“Yeah,” Connie says.

“You sure?” Roman says. “Because if it wasn’t, you can—”

“It’s fine,” Connie interrupts. “We shouldn’t be late for the bus,” he adds, and Roman would think that was him trying to change the subject if he didn’t know that Evan could get genuinely anxious about those sorts of things.

He passes the ‘no go’ message on to Spider on the plane, and Victor’s understandably disappointed. Roman finds himself scrutinizing Harry, a row away and across the aisle from him, for signs of who knows what — wrong doing? — and then realizes he’s being utterly ridiculous and makes himself stop. Harry’s just Harry, and Connie’s a sweetheart, but he’s also an NHL player, and there’s no fucking way he hasn’t managed to get to this point without running into some chirping that dug deep. Hell, Roman had his pick of it, though it was mostly mocking him for being so much worse than his brother, followed by resounding silence and awkward attempts at sympathy that cut worse than any chirps. He made it through that pretty much intact, he needs to have more faith in Connie and quit treating him like a kid, because he isn’t one.

_Shut up, Roman_ , he tells himself preemptively, before that gets off track.

*

Roman does quick survey of his rookies when they hit home soil. Roman doesn’t actually _have_ any rookies, at least not ones who’ll stay up, so he checks on his sophomores, because you don’t stop rookie handling just because they aren’t rookies anymore. Connie’s safely intact in Vic’s spidery clutches. Harry’s got his nose in his phone. Val’s a little too far away to take care of, unfortunately. All accounted for. Roman can head home.

Zuza’s waiting for him when he opens his front door. She trots at his heels, little legs working so fast she almost trips over his ankles, as he goes to put his bag in the laundry room.

“Walk, láska?” Roman asks, and Zuza’s happy to trip over his ankles right out the door. Roman lets her set the pace to the park — trot for her, trudge for him. It’s a beautiful day, barely even feels like fall. That’s sure as shit not going to last — they’re lucky if they _get_ a proper fall rather than skipping right to winter — so he lets himself enjoy it, walks Zuza until she flags and then sits down on a bench to let her rest.

“No rookies this year, Zuza,” Roman says. There are a couple playing the preseason, but unless one of them pulls something incredible out, that’s not going to last. There are a few new guys, and it is Holm’s first year in the NHL, but he’s a vet through and through, played two years of professional hockey in Sweden before coming over, calm and collected as anyone, and that may be a rookie in the NHL’s eyes, but not in Roman’s. If he needs the help, Roman’s there, but he doesn’t think he will. “My rookies all grew up.”

_One in particular_ , his brain adds, in a pretty credible impression of Fitzy. Roman wishes he could blame it entirely on him, but unfortunately, this one’s on him. Grown up, grown into himself, still a little babyfaced but in a sweet way, pink lips in a cupid’s bow, cheeks that go almost as pink as his mouth whenever Roman —

“Shut up Roman,” Roman mutters aloud. Zuza gives him a look like he’s nuts, which he probably deserves.

“Shut up Roman,” Roman repeats, louder, and does his best not to think about it.


End file.
